First drive: 2013 Audi RS5

Originally published: September 6, 2012

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We all would like to believe we are purists, that form always follows function, that the medium is not always the message and that those mysterious Internet cookie things do not really hold all the secrets of our lives. We would especially be convinced that we are not influenced by advertising, that we see right through the trite yet ever so lavish 30-second spots that interrupt the Super Bowl or that, when that buxom lass or buff lad hawks the latest in floor cleaner/perfume/underwear, we can see right through it (and I don’t mean the underwear).

I certainly think of myself as above the marketing fray, hardly ever turning on the TV before 10 p.m. and only then to watch Two and a Half Men. Nonetheless, despite my fervent wish to be outside the marketing world, I think Audi is missing an opportunity to deliver a message — or, at least, it is not explaining its messaging very well.

The messaging of which I speak is the explanation of where the company’s S-Line products fit in the pantheon of performance cars. More specifically, I think there’s a whole bunch of confusion as to what Audi’s S-branded models stand for and which brands they are supposed to compete with. Too often, for instance, I am asked how Audi’s S4 compares with the similarly dimensioned BMW M3 or how the S6 compares with the M5.

Well, the plain and simple truth is they don’t. They don’t have the power, the handling, the brakes or even the persona to keep up with the best of BMW. BMW’s M products are hardcore athletes, the Olympians of the sedan and sports coupe set. Audi’s S-Line models have been to the gym, maybe quaffed a few protein shakes, but there’s not a Michael Phelps among them. The S4’s 3.0-litre V6 may pack a supercharger and 333 horsepower, but it pales in comparison with the M3’s 414-hp V8.

Before all you Audi fans start Googling “hit man” and “rate charged for assassinating autojournalists,” let me assure you it’s all part of Audi’s master plan: There may be a lack of communication, but there is an actual plan.

To wit, the reason all those S models can’t compete with the Ms is because they are not supposed to; for that mission, Audi makes the truly beastly RS models.

Never heard of Audi’s RS models? That’s not surprising, since we get so few of Audi’s sportiest supercars here. In Europe, for instance, you get RS versions of the A3, A4, A6 and the TT. In previous years, there’s even been a Ferrari-killing version of the A6 Avant station wagon. But here, the only RS models we ever saw until recently was the RS4 version of the previous A4.

For 2013, we’re getting another installment, the RS 5, and let me assure you this Audi will give an M3 a run for its money. First the obvious: The RS 5 pumps out a whopping 450 hp. That’s 36 more than the M3. The FSI direct-injection V8 may only displace 4.2 litres, but it packs a wallop.

But, unlike recent BMW M engines that manage ungodly amounts of horsepower from similarly small-sized engines, the RS 5’s V8 is not turbocharged. It develops its gargantuan power the old-fashioned (and, admittedly, less fuel-efficient) way: screaming for revs. This Audi’s V8 redlines at 8,500 rpm (remember when we made such a fuss about the similarly revvy Honda S2000 and it only had a tiny four-banger?) and, more apropos, those 450 horses are developed at a screaming 8,250 rpm.

But the RS 5 doesn’t actually scream. Oh, it may shriek some when the revs are high. There’s certainly some bark from its dual exhaust outlets. Even the intake moans a little with the effort. But it’s never coarse. Indeed, one of the biggest advantages the RS has over the M3 (also imbued, though perhaps not for long, with a high-revving V8) is how easy it makes all this high-speed internal combusting feel compared with the Bimmer. Both claw for revs eagerly, but the Audi sounds like it’s singing in the shower while the BMW feels like it’s grunting a bit with the effort. It’s a surprise, then, to find that it’s the Audi that pumps out more power. Oh, sure, it has a 200-cubic-centimetre displacement advantage (the M3’s V8 sports four litres), but its 450 hp is noticeably more than the M3’s 414 (so is its 316 pound-feet of torque over the M3’s 295 lb-ft, though neither is exactly stump-pulling). The M3, however, weighs a 140 kilograms less, so, in the end, the actual performance figures are a wash. Audi claims a 4.7-second zero-to-100-kilometres-an-hour time for the RS 5, which the manual and automatic version of the M3 neatly bracket with 4.8- and 4.6-second times, respectively. Straight-line performance, then, is a wash so a (slim) advantage must be given to the RS 5 simply because it sounds happier about being thrashed.

I suspect — and I must emphasize the “suspect” part of this statement since I have not yet had both cars on the same track at the same time — that when things get curvy, the M3 will squeak out an equally narrow victory. Inevitably — because of its forward weight bias — the RS 5 will push the front end when those big P275/30R20 Pirellis finally run out of grip. The RS 5’s quattro all-wheel-drive system has a new torque vectoring system that’s supposed to reduce said understeer, but even the best of technologies can only delay the ravages of Newtonian physics, not eliminate them. As noted, the RS 5 weighs 140 kg more than the M3. Its all up weight of 1,820 kg is its greatest impediment to sports car perfection. On the track, then, the roles are likely reversed: It’s the BMW galloping along as if 42 km is barely a jog while the Audi sweats profusely trying to keep up.

Some of that weight is caused by the AWD system and any impediment quattro might add on a dry race track it more than claws back when the road gets slimey. All its torque sensing and vectoring really does offer a great advantage in less than ideal conditions, the front wheels, paradoxically, not oversteering as much as one would expect over snow and ice. Boy racers may not think the quattro’s advantages a worthwhile compromise, but considering how little Audi’s all-wheel drive affects performance, I think it a tremendous advantage, especially here in the Great White Frozen North.

I am a little less convinced about Audi’s S-tronic dual-clutch manual. Like all Audi manumatics, it shifts quickly and smoothly in most circumstances, the dual clutch apparatus meaning your next gear is selected before the clutches are released. It’s wonderfully sophisticated when you’re going fast. Or passing. Or cruising. Not so much when you’re crawling though traffic, however. Then, the electronics get confused, holding on to gears much longer than necessary, the V8 spinning unnecessarily to 3,000 rpm when, in fact, you’re just creeping along. Alternatively, it will downshift for seemingly no reason, the gear change feeling abrupt because you weren’t expecting it. I didn’t notice it much during city driving, but one long (OK, interminable) funeral-like procession had all eight of the RS 5’s pistons working way too hard. If you’re looking for the one remaining advantage of the torque convertor-based autobox compared with the modern dual-clutch manumatic, look no further than the traffic jam.

It proved one of the few foibles in an otherwise phenomenal ride. Ultimate adhesion may still see BMW’s M3 superior, but the RS 5 has advantages in sophistication, versatility (i.e., that all-wheel drive) and even power output that can’t be ignored. Indeed, the greatest surprise is that this RS is an entirely estimable competitor to its equivalent M. Even if Audi seems to want to keep that a secret.